Don't come unless it's too hot to go fishing or berrying." "Tip comes 'cause he's too lazy to go past the door." "I don't!" drawled out the boy they called Tip; "I come to get out of the sun; it's hotter than sixty down home." "Never mind, boys," said their frightened teacher; for they were all laughing now, as though the funniest thing in the world had happened.
"See here, since you have no lessons, shall I tell you a story ?" Oh yes, they were willing enough to hear a story, if it wasn't stupid.
"I'll tell you something that happened to a boy when he was about thirteen years old.

His name is Robert; he told me this story himself, so you may be sure it's true.
"He said one evening he was walking slowly down the main street of the village where he lived"-- "Where was that ?" asked Bob Turner.
"Oh, it was away out west.

He said he felt cross and unhappy; he had nowhere in particular to go, and nothing to do.

As he walked, he came to a turn where two roads met.

'Now,' thought he, 'shall I turn to the left and go home, and hang around until bed-time, or shall I turn to the right and go down to the river awhile ?' "You see, Robert hadn't a happy home,--his mother was dead, and his father was a drunkard.
"While he stood thinking, a boy came around the other corner, and called out,-- "Going home, Rob ?' "'Don't know,' said Robert; 'I can't make up my mind.' "'Suppose you come on down to our house, and we'll have a game of ball ?' "Still Robert waited.